


A Failed Rescue

by ThrallofPentacles



Series: A Long and Arduous Escape [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (well it's a warg but close enough), Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Begging, Bukakke, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Crying, Face-Fucking, Gangbang, Goblins, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rimming, Situational Humiliation, Spitroasting, Werewolves, brief use of the word "bred" but no actual breeding occurs, mindbreak (but not in the POV character (yet)), some violence (of the goblin-stabbing variety), specifically magic aphrodisiac come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrallofPentacles/pseuds/ThrallofPentacles
Summary: Sir Jaspar Trent is a knight of the Shining City. A champion of justice who defended the walls of his home from invading armies and dragons alike, who defeated a wraith in single combat. And now, as punishment for fooling around with the guildmaster's son, he's a glorified exterminator.He sets out to clear a nest full of goblins. An easy job, one that's far beneath his talents—until he finds a captive deep within the tunnels, and his luck takes a turn for the worse.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, original male character/goblins, original male character/werewolf
Series: A Long and Arduous Escape [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118753
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92





	A Failed Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> just a friendly reminder to please please MIND THE TAGS! this one's pretty fucked up.

Sir Jaspar Trent was a knight of the Shining City. A champion of justice who had defended the walls of his home from invading armies and dragons alike, who had defeated a wraith in single combat.

He was not a fucking exterminator.

And yet, here he was. Ready to clear out a goblin nest, of all things. The small town of Tarroan had an infestation the likes of which the adventurer's guild hadn't seen in years, and had lost over a dozen of its warriors in those tunnels. Most likely a pack of idiot cannon fodder too green to remember to bring healing potions. Eventually, they ran out of volunteers and had to post a bounty in the city. Where no knight with any self-respect would touch it.

Except for Jaspar. He was in hot water for an incident with the guildmaster's son, the kind the guildmaster couldn't officially punish him for without telling someone why he was doing it. So instead he gave Jaspar the worst pest control job he could find, and told him that the next time he caught him so much as looking at his boy, he'd put him in the sewers where he could fill up his boots with shit and rat guts.

He sighed and shouldered his longsword. The door to the warrens was a crude thing, little more than a plank of wood propped over the opening. Jaspar gave it a tug and let it topple to the floor. He tapped the pin that held his cloak and it began to glow, illuminating the tunnel ahead of him. Holding out his shield, he pushed inside.

The passage was tall enough for Jaspar to stand upright, and wide enough for several knights to walk abreast. He made a mental note to expect a few hobgoblins—the little ones made tiny holes that humans needed to crawl through. Not that there weren't any of those to be found. He noted several of them as he walked, and took care to watch his back.

Soon enough, Jaspar started to encounter the filthy creatures. He slashed at them, cutting them down with hardly more effort than simply strolling through a field. His temper grew fouler and fouler with every step. Here he was, wasting his time and skill on something a few bright-eyed newbies could handle with ease. He scowled and plowed through several more goblins. A hobgoblin proved to be slightly more of a challenge—it took three blows to bring down, and landed a solid hit on his shield with its club. Jaspar stepped over the body and continued on his way.

As he turned a corner and delved into the deepest parts of the warrens, a faint noise caught his attention. Curious, Jaspar abandoned his more systematic approach and took several turns one after another, straining his ears for another hint of the sound. He soon realized with a cold dread that what he was hearing was a voice. A human voice, muffled, crying out in pain.

He crept through the tunnels, forcing himself to move slowly and quietly. If they heard him coming, they might kill the prisoner out of sheer spite. Eventually Jaspar reached a large cavern, from which he could hear the person's cries much more clearly. There were other sounds too, grunts and snickers and jeers from what sounded like a lot of goblins, as well as an odd smacking noise he couldn't identify.

Jaspar poked his head into the cavern—and instantly the blood drained from his face.

The prisoner lay on his back with his legs spread, naked and chained by his ankle to the wall. And he was  _ covered  _ in goblins. One crouched on his chest, shoving its hideous cock into his mouth. Another squatted between his legs, panting and cackling as it used his hole. Still more of them took their filthy pleasure from his hands, or simply rubbed themselves on any part of his flesh that was left exposed.

Jaspar raised his sword—but before he could charge, a realization struck him that sent him reeling. The noises the man was making... they weren't  _ pain  _ at all. He was moaning.

It was difficult to make out through the goblin thrusting into his mouth, but the longer Jaspar watched, stunned and horrified, the harder it was to deny. He lay there unresisting, squealing like an eager pig as they defiled him. Bile rose in Jaspar's throat. He nearly turned and walked away.

But however pathetically he'd succumbed, this man  _ was  _ still a prisoner. Jaspar's duty was clear. So he raised his shield and marched into the cavern. The goblins were so preoccupied with their toy that they didn't even notice his approach. Not until he'd already cut down four of them. After that, well, they were naked and weaponless. Easy prey.

When it was over, Jasper looked down at the man and grimaced in disgust. Their...  _ emissions  _ were all over him, painting his skin and matting his long blond hair. More of the stuff was leaking out of his asshole, and drooling from the corners of his mouth. Worst of all, though, was that he'd clearly responded to what those  _ things  _ had been doing to him. His dick was hard and dripping precome.

"You," Jasper said. "What's your name?"

The man stared blankly up at him.

Jasper frowned. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

No response.

Perhaps he didn't speak Common... but no, there was something else wrong here. His violet eyes were glazed over, and he kept blinking in confusion at all the dead goblins. Jasper sighed and reached down to offer him a hand. "Come on," he said. "Get up."

The man took it. Jasper hauled him to his feet, then swore when he wrapped his arms around the knight's shoulders. Gods only knew what kind of filth had just gotten on his cloak. He sighed and gently extricated himself from the prisoner. Fortunately the man could walk—though not very quickly.

"Follow me."

They were halfway back up the main tunnel when two large figures blocked their way. Hobgoblins... and three smaller goblins standing behind them. Jaspar ignored them, raising his sword and focusing on the real threats. "Stay behind me," he told the prisoner, and rushed them.

One hobgoblin was dead in mere seconds. The other lunged at him with a spiked club, roaring while the three goblins cheered it on in their language. Jaspar slid to the side and slashed out, landing a glancing blow across the monster's face. It howled and stumbled backwards, clutching at its ruined eye and then falling flat on its ass.

And in all that time, Jaspar didn't notice that the three goblins weren't cheering at all. They were chanting.

His eyes widened. He threw himself at them, cutting one clean in two and impaling the other through the throat... but he wasn't fast enough. The third finished the incantation, and Jaspar's world went dark.

He woke slowly, with his head pounding fit to burst. Groaning, Jaspar rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. He was in a cave, small and dimly lit. There was something fastened around his throat—an iron collar, fixed to the wall with a length of chain. More chains bound his hands behind his back. Flinching, he scrabbled backwards on the stone floor, shuddering at the feeling of cold stone against his bare skin.

His bare skin. Jaspar's heart leaped into his throat as he realized his weapons were gone. His armor was gone.  _ His clothes were gone! _

"No!" He lurched to his feet, yanking at his shackles with all his strength. A high, nasally voice began to giggle.

Jaspar whirled. A goblin stood several feet away, past a set of iron bars that stretched from floor to ceiling. Worse, he recognized it. The surviving caster, the one who had knocked him out. And behind it stood several of its fellows.

"Release me, foul creatures! I am Sir Jaspar Trent of the Shining City, I am—"

The mage snapped its fingers. Goblins slipped between the bars of his cage without even bothering to unlock the door, creeping closer and closer to Jaspar. He kicked out, managing to knock one of them off its feet before the others reached him. They yanked his legs out from under him, so that he landed painfully on his back. He cried out as they climbed over him, groping at him with their slimy, gnarled fingers.

"I'll kill you!" he roared, as the first of them unfastened its loincloth and rubbed itself against his chest. "When I get my sword back, I'll... I'll..."

One of the creatures knelt over his head and started to stroke itself, positioning its disgusting prick right between his eyes. He snarled and bucked against their combined weight, but it was no use. His arms were pinned underneath him, and he had no leverage. He could only watch, helpless, as the nasty little monster toyed with itself, panting and babbling in Goblin until it came. Filth spattered across his face.

Flushing with rage and shame, Jaspar tried to bite the monster. But it scrambled away, cackling and jeering at him, as others spilled themselves all over his body. He thrashed and snarled and hurled every insult and threat he could think of... but in the end every single one of them came away unscathed, leaving him lying there covered in their release.

He had no time to catch his breath. Heavy footsteps sounded from outside, and the towering figure of a hobgoblin shuffled into the room. It nodded to the goblin mage, then opened the door and stood there, looming over him. He swallowed hard as he looked into its face—a blood-caked bandage was wrapped around its head. This, then, was the one he'd scarred.

Jaspar looked it dead in its remaining eye and spat.

The hobgoblin dropped its loincloth. Its cock was thick and bulbous and veined, almost as enormous as it was ugly, and it was already hard. Jaspar couldn't help himself. He shrank back, letting out a yelp when the monster crouched down and grabbed his hair in one of its meaty fists. In its other hand, it held a broken spearpoint to the hollow of his throat.

The message was clear. Don't struggle.

Jaspar squeezed his eyes shut. It did nothing to block out the feeling of the monster's dick sliding past his lips. He wanted to recoil at the taste, hot and sour and vile, but he couldn't. He could only grunt as the hobgoblin tightened its grip on his hair and pushed his head up and down, fucking its way down his throat.

He gagged. Tears filled his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He was a knight of the Shining City, and he would not bend. Not even under an indignity like this.

Soon his ears were filled with the wet slapping of the cock sliding in and out of his mouth, and the hobgoblin's grunts of pleasure. He clenched his fists. That was the worst part—he could hear how good this felt for the monster, how much it was enjoying using him like this. And then he could taste it, too. Precome spilled from the tip of its dick and coated his tongue.

Suddenly it was too much. He knew what was about to happen, and he couldn't bear it. Let the monster kill him—it would do it anyway, in time. Jaspar bit down as hard as he could.

The hobgoblin snarled. Rough hands seized his jaw and pried it open, and the pace of the cock thrusting into his mouth only quickened. He cried out as he felt it pulse and spurt. Viscous fluid flooded his throat, and Jaspar had a choice—he could swallow, or he could choke.

He swallowed.

It tingled as it went down. He shuddered, panting as a flush of heat ran through his body. The strange sensation passed quickly, leaving him slumped and red-faced and glaring his defiance.

One-eye snarled and barked something in Goblin. The mage replied, as if unsure. One-eye insisted. Shrugging, the mage called out an order.

Jaspar braced himself. For more goblins, even for a troop of hobgoblins... and then he saw it. A hulking creature loping on all fours, with a mane of shaggy fur covering its shoulders and back. He recognized it as a warg, one of the wolflike beasts that some goblins kept as mounts. Its beady red eyes fixed on him. It said something to the mage in Goblin, something he had no hope of understanding.

What he did understand was that One-eye was holding the door of the cage open. That the warg was approaching him, its eyes gleaming with predatory intent. That at this angle he could see underneath it, to the growing bulge poking out of its fur.

"No!" he bellowed. "No, get away!"

One-eye strode into the cage after it. He dragged Jaspar up off the floor, then forced him to his knees and held him there by the collar around his neck. The knight kicked and thrashed, but he could do nothing to stop it as he was bent forward, as though kneeling before a god.

He felt hot breath on his ass. "Please," Jaspar blurted, hating himself even as he said it. And then he felt something slick and hot pressing between his cheeks, sliding up and down until it found his hole. He whimpered, and One-eye laughed.

There was more laughter from behind him. He had to crane his neck to see the small crowd of goblins—and doing that meant he could see the warg standing over him, sniffing at his ass. Could see its tongue lapping at him.

He hung his head. There was no stopping the small noises he made as the warg's tongue pressed inside him, or the tiny whispered pleas that slipped past his lips. There was no blotting out the goblins' jeers. He could only hang there, shivering in terror as the warg's coarse fur pressed against his back. It stepped over him, squatting down until—

"Ah!" He jerked away as something thick and hot pressed against his spit-slick hole. One-eye shook him. His head snapped back and forth. Dizzy and reeling, he went limp. And in that moment, the warg lined itself up and  _ pushed. _

Jaspar screamed. His body clenched instinctively against the intrusion, but then... something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. He felt the head of the warg's cock pop inside, and a bolt of heat tore through him. He let out a noise that almost didn't sound like pain at all. That was almost...

It was some kind of enchantment. It had to be. He clung to that thought as he felt his dick stiffen, as he gasped into the stretch of the warg sinking into him. Its cock was so thick he marveled that he was able to take it at all—but past that initial thrust, it didn't hurt.

He wished it would. As the monster started to pump in and out, he writhed and pleaded for any god that could hear him to please, make it hurt. He could take this, if only it didn't feel good. If only he could cling to some fragment of his pride.

There was no answer. Only the sick pleasure of being split open over and over again, of the massive cock inside him rubbing against that sensitive spot that made his own dick jerk. A goblin started to moan in falsetto, mocking him. One-eye slapped his ass, hard. Jaspar gritted his teeth and endured.

The warg's thrusts got faster, more erratic. It panted its hot breath against his ear. And then he felt it. A swollen bulb at the base of the monster's cock. Jaspar's eyes flew open wide. He knew enough about hounds to know what that was. "Please!" he cried, too desperate now even to flinch at what he was saying. "I can't take that, don't make me! I'll... I'll suck your cock, I won't bite, I swear, only don't—"

One-eye chuckled and pulled out his dick. It was still mostly unscathed, despite the earlier bite, and already halfway hard again. Jaspar opened his mouth and took it all in, gagging himself in his desperation to escape this punishment. He swallowed around One-eye, flicking his tongue, wishing he knew how to do this the way the guildmaster's son could. Wishing he could please the hobgoblin, if there was any chance that might save him.

Another burst of come filled his mouth. Jaspar swallowed it with a shudder. It didn't taste so bad this time—in fact, it was very nearly sweet. He wished it weren't.

As One-eye pulled away, the warg stopped thrusting. Waiting for the hobgoblin's decision. He barked an order and the warg crouched against Jaspar, humping his ass and snarling. The knot rubbed against his hole, pressing further and further inside as the monster bore down with all its weight.

Jaspar was a knight of the Shining City. He was brave, and strong, and unwavering in the fight against evil. And there, in that dim cave with the warg's knot pressing into him, he broke. Tears fell to the stone floor in front of them as he began to sob. He begged and groveled like a coward, promising One-eye anything he wanted,  _ anything,  _ only please...

The knot popped inside. Jaspar howled and clenched down, crying helplessly as he felt the first rush of come flooding him. It was endless—he slumped against One-eye's grip on his collar, shaking and whimpering as it bred him like a bitch in heat. His dick pulsed. Wide-eyed, he tried to hold it back, tried to concentrate one what was  _ happening,  _ but it was no use. The monster's come tingled, and heat filled him, and his cries turned into a moan of pathetic, simpering pleasure as his own release spattered his chest.

When it was over, and the warg's cock finally stopped pumping him full of its come, Jaspar hung limp from its knot. He was covered in the proof of his humiliation, his ears ringing with the goblins' laughter, still plugged full of the monster's seed. There was nothing he could do except weep while he wallowed in his shame.

Eventually, the knot deflated. The warg's release flowed out of him, coating his legs and leaving him unbearably filthy. One-eye dragged him by the collar, unresisting, until they came to another, larger cave. He was pushed into a cage, empty except for a pile of rags in the corner, and his chain was attached to the wall.

Another chain hung there, too. It coiled on the floor before disappearing under the pile of rags.

Jaspar ignored this. He curled into a ball in the corner of the cage, still sobbing, trying desperately to rub his own come off his chest.

The rags stirred. He jumped as a head popped out, and a familiar pair of violet eyes blinked at him. The prisoner crawled towards him, dragging the chain around his ankle, and cocked his head to one side. Jaspar tensed—then let out a shaky sigh as he felt the man's arms wrap around him.

He tried to get a hold of himself. He really did. But that tiny glimpse of comfort brought him to tears again. He pressed himself against the man's chest, hiding his face in the curve of his neck, his whole body shaking as slim fingers stroked the back of his neck.

Up close, he realized that under all the dirt and filth, the man's hair wasn't blond like he'd initially assumed. It was silvery white, kept long and drawn back in a loose ponytail. His eyes shone in the dim light of the cave. They might be glassy and confused, but there was a spark of warmth in them.

He looked like an angel. A seraph from the stories, come down to soothe the dying on the battlefield.

"I'm sorry," Jaspar sobbed. He wasn't sure the man could even understand him—but he remembered what he'd thought when he'd first seen him. This man, the seraph, he must have been here a long time. Long enough that whatever enchantment had already snared Jaspar had stolen his voice. Perhaps even his will. He'd lain there for the goblins, spread wide and moaning, because he'd been trapped with them for so long that their filth had changed him.

And unless another knight got on the guildmaster's bad side very soon, Jaspar would suffer the same fate.


End file.
